Forward

I was there. France 1998. Paris, Bordeaux and St Etienne.

I was in the Stade de France to watch Scotland play the opening game of the World Cup Finals against Brazil. A street party in Bordeaux with football fans from several nations mingling and having fun together before watching a 1-1 draw with Norway on a big screen in the city centre. The long coach journey back from St Etienne to our hotel at Annecy having been beaten 3-0 by Morocco, followed by our flight home just a few hours later.

I didn't know it then, but that was the last time Scotland's men's team was to qualify for the finals of a major tournament. Until last night.

Twenty-two years of disappointment, hurt, let-downs and frustration, of snatching defeat from the jaws of victory, sometimes of having little to cheer. Twenty-two years of 'glorious failure', of tears, of thinking "not again!" as another tournament evades our grasp and we are left as disinterested spectators rather than participants. Until last night.

Yes, dear reader, I cried.
I cried when Serbia scored their last minute equaliser, but this was not to be another "not again" moment. I was to cry again about 30 minutes later when David Marshall saved Aleksandar Mitrović's penalty, once the scream of joy subsided. Scotland had put 22 years of failure behind and, yes, there were tears in my eyes. Don't say "it's only a game" to a football fan, especially one who has an emotional attachment to their team, whether a club side or national one. We believe otherwise!

Today I had a walk in Callendar Park, Falkirk and took photos. I liked this one of a young swan and thought I'd post it in my journal.